Paralogues
by SilverIcefire
Summary: A series of spin-offs from my Awakening novelization (Dragons' Blood).
1. The Dragon Girl

**Summary** : _While the others fight the Plegian War, Nowi and Gregor are left in Ylisse to deal with petty crimes in Ylisse. (Based off of Paralogue I)_

* * *

"Come _on_ , old man!" Nowi chirped, sprinting back along the path and tugging on Gregor's arm.

"Oi! If Gregor is old man, then Nowi is great-great-great-great-grandma!" The mercenary pouted. "If you are so very old, from where is limitless energy coming?"

Nowi didn't break pace, dragging Gregor along as she ran down the dirt path. "Lots and lots of Vitamin D!" She glanced over her shoulder and threw him a wink. Gregor returned it with a look of utter confusion.

"There!" Nowi exclaimed. She pointed ahead, to a short cobbled wall just ahead, peeking through the woods. "That must be the village. Time to kick some brigand butt!"

"Aye, yes," Gregor grinned. "The kicking of butt, Gregor understands!"

The lack of guards at the village entrance was more than disconcerting, but the air was far from quiet. Even as the pair approached, a hoarse screaming grew nearer and nearer, and a short figure, clad in farmer's clothes and with a large bronze pot on his head, came careening around the corner and collided with Gregor.

"S-sir! I mean, milord!" The young man gripped Gregor's shirt in both hands. "You gots to help us! I'm beggin' ya, milord! Milady! I mean, uh, missus!"

Gregor grinned. Nowi elbowed him sharply in the side.

"We're no high lords or ladies," she giggled, "no matter what _this_ one might say. But we'd be happy to help! Just slow down, what exactly is going—"

"Oy!" A rough voice, and the thudding of heavy boots heralded the arrival of more newcomers. Two brigands rounded the corner. "There's the wee piglet!"

"Oh, great," Nowi rolled her eyes.

The brigands laughed. "What's this? Some ragtag merc and his... little sister, is it? Or trophy?"

"OY!" Gregor roared. "Wee one is no trophy! And Gregor is no 'ragtag!'" Without waiting for them to respond, he drew his steel blade and cut down the first brigand. The other swung his axe towards Gregor, but he caught the axehead on the hilt of his sword, pulling the axe out of the brigand's hand and plunging his blade into the brigand's chest. As the brigand choked and stiffened, Gregor kicked the body off of the end of his sword, turning back to the villager, who was watching in great horror, both hands on the handles of his pot-helmet.

"Now, smöl one, you tell Gregor what is happening here."

"What's your name, to start?" Nowi asked kindly, patting the villager's pot.

"D-donny. Er, that is, Donnel. But you can call me anythin', milady, milord! I live in the village just beyond this wall. That rotten-toothed, pig-stinkin' bandit you just ran off attacked us! Er, pardon my language, Your Lordliness. I'm the only one who got away, and even then just barely. They were roundin' up the others to haul 'em off to a bandit camp... Please, sir! You gots to save them folks! My ma's one of 'em, and... She's all I got in this world!"

"Worry not!" Gregor puffed out his chest. "You leave it to Gregor. And, er, wee one. Say, Nowi – why you come with Gregor without weapon?"

Nowi blinked at him. "Um." She hoisted the blue stone off of her belt and held it up to him. Gregor lifted an eyebrow, but didn't ask further questions.

"Come, Don-knell! We go save your Ma."

Donnel led them around the edge of the wall, which was heavily wooded, to the side of the village. The village's periphery was framed by farmland, and as they came up on the back fields, they saw that the brigands had indeed rounded up a good deal of the villagers in one of the pigpens. They crept closer.

"Stupid brigands," Nowi muttered. "They didn't even leave anyone to keep guard on their backs."

"Shh," Gregor hushed her, putting a finger to his lips. He pressed himself against the wall of one of the houses, motioning for she and Donnel to do the same. They peeked around the corner.

"P-please, sirs!" A woman, close to the edge of the fence, gripped at the post with both hands. "We've got nothin' left to take! Just– please, let our children go!"

One of the brigands kicked at the fence post, and she staggered back. "Quit yer bleatin'!"

Another brigand came up by the first's side. "Oy, Roddick! Isn't this the mum of that brat that got away?"

Donnel's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but Nowi clapped a hand over it before he could make a noise.

Roddick placed a hand on his chin. "Hmm. Aye, yes! I know this one – yer the wife of that man that broke me rib last time we was here!"

"And you killed him for it, you monster!" The woman shrieked. "I wished he'd've done you in first..."

The brigands cackled. "It's no small wonder that the brat's got more brass than brains, if you're his mum. Guess we'll see for ourselves when we catch him, eh—?"

Donnel suddenly leapt forwards, and Nowi was unable to grab his arm before he did so. The pot on his head clattered to the dirt, and all the villagers and brigands turned their heads towards the noise. "A-ain't nobody gets to talk to my Ma like that!"

"Ey, speak of the little devil!" Roddick grinned. "Come to punch us all to death, lad?" he looked over at the woman. "Now, woman, we'll make you watch as we gut him...!"

"Not on Gregor's watch! Gregor will not be made to do the watching...!" With a battle cry, Gregor emerged from cover, sword drawn.

"Wait!" Nowi shoved him out of the way, standing between Gregor and Donnel and the brigands. They laughed again. "Oh, now there's a wee girl with 'em too! I bet she'd sell for somethin' good on the auction block, wouldn't ya say, lads?" The brigands roared in assent.

Nowi narrowed her eyes. "I'm. Never. Going. Back. To. The. Block." She lifted the stone in her right hand, and a fantastic flash of light blinded the area. Gregor lifted his arms to shield his eyes. When the light cleared, eddies of dust were floating around the area, and where Nowi had stood, there was a massive beast, about twice the size of a horse, floating in the air as it was suspended by wings of translucent scales.

"B-by the gods!" Roddick staggered backwards. "She's a manakete!"

The dragon let out a roar, and flapped her wings hard, buffeting the brigands, who either fell over on their bottoms or turned and ran. Nowi climbed into the air, and blasted a ball of cold, white energy towards them. It exploded on the ground, sending some flying, leaving others encased in frost.

Gregor, still wide-eyed, shook himself soundly, and charged forwards at the first line of stunned brigands. With a wild tackle, he took two down, swinging his blade to slash at another. Together with Nowi, they made short work of the fleeing brigands.

Roddick hefted his twin axes, gritting his teeth grimly. Nowi spat at him, and he dodged the ice bolt, but she darted forwards, whacking him across the chest with her tail. She chased his flying form, scooping him up in her foreclaws. Roddick screamed like a little girl. "P-please! No!" In response, Nowi roared in his face, and clamped her jaws down on his torso, spitting his body out into the dirt.

The brigands defeated, she floated slowly down to the ground, and the light flashed once more, and she was once again a small girl. She turned and made a face at Gregor.

"Blech!" She spat on the ground. "Ugh, he tasted _gross_!"

Gregor blinked at her. "Oy! Why you never tell Gregor that you are dragon?"

Nowi shrugged. "I guess I forgot that you've never seen me transform?" She grinned. "But pretty cool, right?"

"That was darn AWESOME!" Donnel yelled as the villagers began to climb over the pigpen's fence. The woman from earlier ran towards him and scooped him into her arms.

"Oh, Donny! Thank the gods yer safe."

"And you, Ma!" Donnel sniffled, hugging her back tightly.

The villagers clamored around Nowi and Gregor. "We owe you our lives! How can we possibly repay you?"

Nowi smiled sweetly at them. "No debt owed! We're just trying to do our part while our friends fight the war for us."

"Say," Donnel walked up to them, ducking his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't more help."

Gregor ruffled his hair. "No need for worries, wee lad! Soon, you will be defending village with single-hand."

As they walked back to the palace, the sun began to diminish in the sky. Nowi folded her hands behind her back and hummed softly as they went. Gregor cast her a sidelong glance.

"How long has wee one been a dragon, eh?"

Nowi giggled. "Since uh, I was born, silly! Really though – I'm super sorry if I surprised you. Oh! I know, I'll make it up to you"

Gregor lifted an eyebrow. "Eh?"

"Back before I headed out into the world, my tribe taught me a couple handy tricks. You can make nice sweaters and chainmail out of manakete scales, you know? Which would you prefer? Sweater, or chainmail? ...Hm, I think you'd look nicer in a sweater. Sweater it is!"

Gregor laughed, and patted her head. "But if wee one donates scales to nice sweater for Gregor, then defenses will be less, no?"

Nowi shrugged. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's just a few scales."

"A 'few?'" Gregor tapped his nose thoughtfully. "Gregor is not knowing this 'few.' Is more than two, yes?"

Nowi snickered. "Yeah, definitely more than two."

"Well," Gregor huffed. "Gregor very grateful for sacrifice, but is very foolhardy!"

"No, really! I just want to–"

"We make new rule!" Gregor stopped in front of her. "Since you lose armor, you must stay close to Gregor in battle. Is agreed?"

Nowi elbowed him again, in a more friendly manner. "I think I can go along with that."


	2. The Princess and the Protector

**Summary:** _Lon'qu suspects that Chrom is putting him up to something, while Lissa continues her attempts at building friendships. Based on Supports._

* * *

"Princess," a muffled voice came from outside her door, followed by a quiet, steady knocking. "You'll be late for tea."

Lissa scowled and rolled her eyes. She tossed her book onto her bed, swung her legs off, shoved her feet into her shoes, and opened the door. Lon'qu stood outside, taking a step back when she opened the door.

"Since when are you my butler/babysitter?" She folded her arms.

"Since what happened with your sister," he said bluntly. "Every shadow could hide a knife. And apparently someone wants your sweet little head on a platter."

Lissa flinched, but glanced at him coyly. "So now you think I'm sweet, huh?"

Lon'qu huffed, and turned to head down the hall. Lissa sighed, and trailed after him.

In one of the small rooms of the palace, Elysa was already seated, the spot across from her awaiting the princess's arrival. The door was slightly ajar. Lissa caught sight of her brother's fiancée gingerly lifting the lid from the teapot and wafting at it, sniffing disdainfully.

Lissa chuckled as she pushed the door open. "What's wrong with it today?"

Elysa looked over at her, disparaged. "I... I don't know? It smells a little too bitter, or something."

"Have it with the pastries," Lissa suggested, sliding into her chair, "it'll cut the taste a little.

"Sorry," Elysa said apologetically, "for being so picky. The post-war internal diplomacy stuff has me on edge."

"And that's why we have tea every other day," Lissa said with a grin. "We sit, and eat and drink, and the world is a little peaceful, even if only for a bit." She poured for Elysa first, then herself. A servant came in with a platter of small cakes and handpies.

The door clicked shut. Elysa looked over her shoulder, then back at Lissa with a raised eyebrow. "How are things going with... that?"

Lissa huffed. "I'm sick of having to tiptoe around him. We're breaking his woman issue," she declared.

"Now?" Elysa raised her eyebrows in surprise and laughed.

"Yes, right now," Lissa said. She stood up again and strutted across the room, yanking the door open. Lon'qu had been leaning against it, and nearly fell over. "You! Inside, now."

"U-um..."

"That's an ORDER!" Lissa yelled. She pulled the door open further, and pointed at the tea-table. The servant hurriedly placed a third seat for him.

"Gods, just _why—"_

" _Now."_ Lissa said firmly.

Lon'qu stared her down for a moment, then sighed in resignation. One of his hands rested on his belt, close to his sword, and he eyed Elysa as he gingerly plopped himself into the third chair. Elysa stifled her laughter ineffectively.

"Another cup and plate as well, please," Lissa said, smiling sweetly at the servant. He nodded.

"At once, Your Highness."

"'Your Highness?" Lon'qu echoed. Lissa and Elysa looked at him, surprised that he spoke. "What happened to 'milady?'"

"I turned eighteen," Lissa said pointedly. "I'm an adult now."

Lon'qu narrowed his eyes at his teacup. "Mhm."

Lissa ignored him, and poured him some tea.

"Say, Elysa," she said, plopping a piece of cake on Lon'qu's plate as well, "do you have a date set yet for the wedding?"

"Hm?" The tactician had a bite of pie halfway in her mouth. She bit it embarrassedly, chewing and swallowing hurriedly. "Well, no. Chrom's been very busy, and so have I... it'll happen eventually." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Well, when it _does_ , I'd better be a bridesmaid," Lissa said, pointing her fork at Elysa.

Elysa laughed. "Of course you will be. Not that I know the first thing about weddings."

"They're nice." Lon'qu said, spearing his cake.

"Oh?" Lissa leaned over towards him questioningly. He scooted his chair away an inch. "Do say more."

"I have a brother and a sister. They've gotten married." Lon'qu wrinkled his nose at the cake's sweetness.

"Oh?"

"That's it."

Lissa made a face. "You're useless at conversation," she muttered.

* * *

"We're going for a walk," she declared.

"What?" Lon'qu groaned. "First the tea party, now you want to go for a stroll in the woods?"

"Yes, I do," Lissa said, swinging her arms as she made her way down the halls to the palace exit. "And you _have_ to come with me, to guard me, right?" She grinned cheekily.

Lon'qu grumbled inaudibly, but trailed along behind her.

They made their way out of the palace walls, and into the light groves of trees just beyond the city limits.

"It's getting dark; we shouldn't stay out for too long," he said, glancing around warily at the trees.

"Hey," Lissa said, ignoring him, "the path gets a little bumpy here. Should we hold hands?"

"No."

"Ugh. How are you not used to me by now?" Lissa pouted. "Would it really kill you to be less serious or smile once in a while? Like, honestly–"

"Sh." Lon'qu froze.

"That is SO RUDE!" Lissa exclaimed. "Gods, I'm only trying to—"

"No..." Lon'qu's hand went to his sword. "Get behind me! Quickly!" Before Lissa could protest further, he dashed in front of her. "There's a— hngh!"

There was a whistle through the air and a soft thud as an arrow buried itself in his shoulder.

"N-no!" Lissa's eyes widened in terror. She became painfully aware of the absence of both her lance and staff. "You're hurt! Please..."

"It's one arrow," Lon'qu gritted his teeth, and pulled it out. "It won't kill me. Now stay close; I wager we've found your assassins..."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Lissa glanced at his arm. Blood was beginning to soak through his sleeve.

"A single arrow," Lon'qu repeated, gritting his teeth.

"Yes, but more might be on their way," Lissa glanced around. "I-I think we're surrounded...!"

The myrmidon drew his blade. "Stay close. When I move, you move, and you find cover. Got it?"

"Yes," Lissa breathed, her knuckles white.

Lon'qu darted forwards, and she stayed close on his heels, pressing herself against a tree trunk as he cut down the first assassin he came across in the brush. Another arrow buried itself in the tree, dangerously close to Lissa's face. She cried out and ducked down, crawling under the lower bushes. Lon'qu flew overhead, and a strangled cry soon came from the same direction that the arrow originated.

Every time there was the slightest movement in the bushes, Lon'qu was there first. There was a crash of branches, one after another, as the assassins fell to his blade.

Soon, he stepped out into the clearing, breathing heavily.

"That's... the last of them. You can come out now."

Lissa stood up slowly, and warily tiptoed out towards him. She gasped. His arm was bleeding heavily from where he'd been shot, but there were also new wounds in his flank from a dagger or other small blade, and a cut across his cheek.

He looked at her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Yes... thanks to you. But you—"

"I'll be fine." He shook his head. "Let's head back."

They began their walk back to the palace, more slowly than the pace at which they came. Lon'qu limped along, gritting his teeth.

"You saved my life," Lissa said quietly.

"Heh," the faintest of smiles turned up the corner of Lon'qu's mouth for a moment. "That was my job. I just followed orders." He swayed dangerously.

Lissa stepped closer to him, but hesitated. "Do you want to – will you let me support you? Lean on me," she pleaded.

He looked back at her uncertainly, but drew another ragged breath. "Ok."

She took his arm and threw it over her shoulders. "There you go... easy does it."

As the palace gates drew nearer, a platoon of guards caught sight of them.

"Your Highness! Soldier! What happened?" Two men moved up to their side, and took Lon'qu between them. He winced.

"Brigands in the woods," Lissa said steadily. "But we'll be okay. Take him to the infirmary, if you would."

The guards bowed. "At once."

* * *

Back in her chambers, Lissa changed out of her soiled dress and into a clean one. She picked it up off of the floor, frowning worriedly. There were stains of Lon'qu's blood all over it. She sighed, and then straightened herself determinedly. Tossing the ruined dress in the pile of clothes for the wash, she picked up her staff from the door and made her way through the palace.

She knocked lightly on the door to his quarters.

"Come in."

Turning the brass handle, the door creaked slightly as she opened it. The room was dimly lit, and Lon'qu sat up on his bed, hands folded on his lap.

"Oh, it's you."

Lissa frowned slightly, wounded. "You could at least pretend to be happy to see me. I just wanted to check in on you... but I don't want to disturb you. Sorry. I'll just head out." She began to close the door again.

"No, wait..."

She pushed the door open a crack in surprise. Lon'qu swung off of the bed and moved over to the side of the room, pulling up an ottoman to the bedside before plopping himself back down. "You can come in."

Lissa hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Lissa. You are no bother. Please, sit."

She blinked at him in surprise, and wordlessly sat down on the seat he'd pulled up. _I must've heard him wrong..._ She sighed and swallowed nervously. "So... since you foiled the plot, I suppose your bodyguard duty is over. There isn't really much reason to continue."

"Hmm..." Lon'qu half-closed his eyes, sinking back down onto the pillows. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you could use a hand in your training as well."

"W-what? But I thought you hate spending time around–"

"You are the exception." He blinked his eyes open and looked at her. "I... have enjoyed the time we've spent together. And I am sorry that I've made it seem otherwise."

Lissa laughed, "I must be losing my mind. Or maybe you're just dizzy and tired."

Lon'qu grunted. "Maybe."

"I..." Lissa paused. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed by my side. I'm... very fond of you, you know?"

Lon'qu's eyes studied her steadily. The ghost of the smile she'd seen earlier returned for a moment, but then his eyes closed slowly, as he drifted off to sleep.

Lissa stood quietly, moving a little closer. Lon'qu's face was peaceful, without the terse expression he always wore. He breathed evenly, already sound asleep.

The princess paused by his bedside for a long moment, and then lightly ran her hand across his cheek. She bent down and placed the lightest of kisses on his forehead. He stirred slightly, but did not wake. Lissa smiled to herself.

"Goodnight," she whispered, slipping quietly back to her own rooms.


	3. The Trousers and the Wyvern

**Summary:** _Kellam is bad at sewing, but Cherche is accepting of his ineptitude. (Based loosely on Supports)_

 _Context: Dragons' Blood, Ch. 14.5_

* * *

" _Ow."_

Kellam's thumb was beginning to resemble a small balloon. He watched the pin-point spot of blood well up slowly and sighed, sticking his thumb into his mouth. _Mmph._ The faint metallic taste made him scrunch his nose. And that's how Cherche found him, hunched over a small drawing-table, raggedy trousers across his lap and table, a needle in one hand and sucking his other thumb like a little baby.

"What on _earth_ are you doing?" She laughed, not bothering to knock as she entered the barracks.

Kellam jumped, somehow not hearing the clanking of Cherche's various metal armor-parts as she had walked up. Being mid-afternoon, the inner rooms of the barracks were empty, all the other Shepherds out and about either training or helping the halidom run smoothly. He banged his knees on the underside of the table, and yelped, not helping his case. Bright red, he addressed the wyvern knight.

"O-oh, hello. Cherche, wasn't it? Good – good day to you..." He cleared his throat.

Cherche laughed again, sliding down onto the bench across from Kellam. She leaned her war axe against the end of the table. Peering across, she picked up his trousers delicately.

"I suppose we haven't officially met yet, have we?" She mused, running her thumb along one particularly long tear. "Well, rather, the opposite – Lord Virion went and introduced me _officially,_ but I haven't had a chance to sit down and have a nice little moment." Cherche reached across and plucked the needle from Kellam's hand nonchalantly.

"I was there, you know," Kellam muttered, "when Virion made his big deal about being a Duke and all."

"Oh, I know. Of course I remember you being there!" Cherche smiled. "Who could forget such _cute_ armor?"

Kellam was taken aback, both by the fact that he'd been noticed, but also: "My armor is WHAT? Did you say _cute?_ "

Cherche deftly ran a double overcast stitch between the ragged ends of the tear at the bottom of the trousers' left leg. "Why, of course. Has no one commented as such before?" She smiled at her handiwork, and laid the needle down on the table. "If you'd like, I can embroider little orange daisies along the hem here to match the highlights on your armor. You know, for casual days?"

He blinked at her blankly. "We- we don't really have many 'casual days' around here... well, I mean – I usually spend most of my free time here, just training. I don't socialize much. Maybe that's why I'm so easily missed... er, rather, not missed? I don't know." He laughed nervously at his rambling.

"Oh, Kellam," Cherche looked at him sympathetically. "That's silly, and doesn't make much sense... but I can't imagine why your friends would pull such pranks on you."

"To be fair," Kellam said with a sigh, "I don't really talk much. Unless I have something important to say."

"So you need to be more gregarious!" Cherche stood up purposefully. "Come."

"W-what?"

"We're going out and about, into the town."

"W-why?"

Cherche rolled her eyes chidingly. "Do we need a reason? Alright. Let's make it a date, then! You can show me around the city. How about that?"

Kellam turned cherry-red. "A-a... a d-date?"

"Yes," Cherche gave him a look. "Is that... not a thing, here in Ylisse? Do people not go jaunting through town on lovely days, with a partner?"

"Er," Kellam gulped nervously. "Well, I suppose. It just usually doesn't happen so... spontaneously?"

"Well, in my country, we believe in utmost candor. Since it's apparent that a lovely lad like you is un-attached to any woman thus far, 'twould not do to let such an opportunity pass." Cherche's statement was definitely pointed as both an explanation for her own feelings and a strong suggestion for Kellam to man up.

"I won't lie," Kellam said, "I can't say no to a-a beautiful woman like you. So- so I'd be... honored to show you around and stuff."

Cherche laughed, a twinkle in her eye. "Lovely! Now, come along."

Without another word, she headed for the door, picking up her axe along the way and tossing it neatly onto the weapon rack by the front wall. Kellam followed her out into the yard.

He nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Cherche's wyvern, perched in the center of the training yard, her long neck craned towards the entrance and exit of the barracks. She made a noise that somewhat reminded Kellam of a cat purring at the sight of her master.

" _Minervykins_ ," Cherche said in a sing-songy voice, "thank you for waiting so patiently." She leaned forwards and planted a kiss on the tip of the wyvern's snout, then looked over her shoulder at Kellam.

Kellam couldn't help but stare a little at Cherche's well-toned shoulders and back, which were bared by the tunic she wore under her armor. When she turned her head, he blinked embarrassedly, lifting his line of sight as quickly as possible.

If Cherche had realized or noticed that he'd been staring, she made no sign nor mention of it. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come meet Minerva!"

The knight shuffled forwards nervously. Minerva chuffed, like Elysa's ornery pegasus would, except it was far more intimidating coming from the dragon-kin. Kellam halted, putting his hands up in fright. The wyvern tipped her head at him curiously.

"Don't worry, she won't hurt you," Cherche encouraged. She moved over to her wyvern's side, stroking a hand along her neck. "Shhh, Minerva... be nice!"

Minerva extended her neck again, sniffing at Kellam suspiciously. He stood stock-still, letting the dragon-kin put her nose right up to his face. Kellam balled up his hands and clenched them, his heart racing as he looked into Minerva's reflective yellow eyes. After another moment of sniffling and exhaling stinky wyvern-breath into Kellam's face, Minerva seemed to be content. She looked back at Cherche and paddled her front paws in satisfaction.

"Alright, you're good to go!" Cherche declared. She swung up into Minerva's saddle in one smooth movement. "Come along," she repeated, nodding her head to gesture Kellam forwards.

His eyes widened. "What? You want me to – what? I can't! I'm terrified of heights!"

"It'll be a short trip," Cherche said encouragingly. "I always take Minervykins with me to the market, though. The vendors and people love her!"

"Oh, gods," Kellam muttered. He unwillingly stepped up to Minerva's flank, side-eyeing the wyvern's head as she watched her potential cargo. He exhaled firmly, steeling himself. Cherche was already nestled comfortably at the very front of Minerva's large saddle, leaving room for him to clamber up – which he did, most unceremoniously. Kellam swayed nervously, feeling Minerva shift her weight. He unconsciously fumbled for something to grab a hold of, which ended up being Cherche's shoulders.

She laughed lightly. "Hold on tight," she said, and he felt her arms shift as she gave Minerva's reins a little flick.

Kellam's heart lurched as the wyvern let out a _graaaak_ and gathered her haunches, spreading her leathery wings and flapping them hard, twice, and they lifted a few meters into the air.

"G-gods!" Kellam shut his eyes, worrying for a moment that he might break Cherche's shoulders from holding on so tight. Blocking out at least his vision, the world continued to lurch as Minerva climbed into the air, and he bit back on screaming like a child.

Once Minerva had reached what Cherche or Cordelia would call _"local cruising altitude,"_ the ride was less bumpy. The wind blew past at a steady pace, and Kellam even dared to crack his eyes open for a moment – but upon seeing that the parapets of the castle were at face-level, he restrained another yelp and shut his eyes once more.

"Are you alright back there?" Cherche called.

"No," Kellam said honestly.

"My two-year-old loves flying."

"Your _what?_ " Kellam scrunched his eyebrows, caught off-guard.

"My son," Cherche said nonchalantly. "His name is Gerome. His father died defending Rosanne, and when I fled to Ylisse, I sent him away to the countryside for asylum."

"Oh." Kellam wasn't sure how to react to that. "You must... miss him."

He felt Cherche's shoulders lift in a shrug. "I'm not the most motherly type. I'm a knight, first and foremost. And he'll be safe where I left him... the war won't reach there. Although Lucina and her friends seem quite happy in Ylisstol... perhaps he'd have been better off with others his age?"

"Well, Severa, Inigo, and Lucina are like three peas in a very exclusive pod," Kellam said. "They treat the other children of the palace like peasants."

"Isn't Inigo the son of that Feroxi girl? The dancer... what was her name?"

"Olivia," Kellam said. "She's a good friend to Basilio, and to Ylisse. She helped us escape Plegia once during the war. But when he plays with the girls they laugh and giggle like there's no tomorrow, so Olivia makes frequent visits."

"Hmm, yes. I remember now," Cherche nodded. "While it's crossed my mind that Gerome might end up being horribly introverted, I'm not too concerned. He'll live a peaceful life, I hope. And should something happen to me Minerva would find him, and keep him safe. She took a liking to him as soon as he was born." The wyvern knight patted her mount's neck affectionately. "She's rather fond of you, too!"

"I-is she?"

"She can definitely smell your fear. And she seems concerned – can you feel how she's constantly making small corrections to catch the wind _just_ so, to keep things steadier and more comfortable?"

 _Not really..._ Kellam grimaced. "I... I appreciate it?"

Minerva chuffed in response.

"Here we are!" he could hear Cherche's grin in her voice. "Hold on tight..."

It took all of Kellam's fortitude to surpress his scream, which rose in his throat like his lunch, threatening to escape. Minerva swept into the town square, where people were either excitedly pointing and running towards her or sprinting for cover. She hovered a moment, and then touched down neatly, surprisingly gracefully for a beast of her size.

Kellam tumbled off of the saddle, _somehow_ managing to land on his feet. His legs, resembling two pillar of jelly, wavered uncontrollably. The children of Ylisstol ran up to the wyvern, squealing with delight, and Cherche, still perched atop Minerva's back, laughed and smiled as she greeted them each by name.

The swarm little ones had run around Kellam like a sea parting around an obtrusive rock, and as usual, none had paid him any mind. But Cherche looked up at him, and hopped down off of her wyvern's back. She reached a hand out to him.

"Come, luv," she smiled, "the day is our oyster."


	4. The Shadows of Stories

**Summary:** _Lucina waits with Tharja while Chrom and Elysa are busy in Valm._

 **AN: Thought we needed a little fluff, especially as we get to the conclusion of the Valmese arc. This short takes place pre-Chapter 18. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review! :)**

It wasn't quite _late_ morning yet, but late enough that it was no longer considered "early." And if it wasn't "early," then she was late.

"Lucina," a finger poked her cheek. "Your breakfast is going to get cold at this rate."

"Mmm..." The little princess rolled over, her mop of tangled blue hair pooling over the edge of her blanket as she burrowed away from her awakener and deeper into her bed. "If I'm sleeping I'm not hungry," she mumbled into her pillow.

"But you'll be hungry at lunchtime. And then you'll eat too much at lunchtime and make yourself sick." She could imagine Tharja folding her arms crossly over her bed. "Three square meals a day – you promised Daddy, remember?"

At the mention of her father, Lucina pushed herself up onto her elbows sluggishly. "When are my parents coming home?"

"Soon, dove," Tharja sighed. "Sooner, the faster you get on with your day."

"That's not how time works."

"It's a relative— oh, nevermind," Tharja muttered. "Where's Lissa? Isn't she the one who's supposed to wake you up usually?"

"I usually wake myself up," Lucina rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, yawning as she dangled her legs off of the edge of her bed, and hopped down into her slippers. "But today I was dreaming about Mommy and Daddy... and my bed felt extra comfy."

Tharja's frown softened. "Hey. They _will_ be back before you know it. I promise. And does Aunty Tharja ever break a promise?"

"Never," Lucina smiled. She reached for Tharja's hand.

As her "Aunty" helped her along with her morning routine, Lucina pondered why so many of the other grown-ups didn't seem to get along with her. Tharja was a little _pointy_ sometimes, and not as bubbly as her Aunty Lissa, sure. But she was always full of good stories and let her do all kinds of fun things that her mother and father wouldn't approve of. What was there to dislike?

After washing her face, she patted it dry with her fluffy white towel, softer than a pegasus's wings. She hung it up on their towel-stand, beside the fresh linens that patiently awaited her parents' return. _Before I know it,_ she reassured herself, _that's what she_ _promised, right?_

Breakfast had survived Lucina's late departure from bed, and was still plenty warm by the time it was served. Lissa was waiting for her.

" _There_ you are, Lucina," she beamed as her niece skipped into the hall.

At her side, Lon'qu bowed his head respectfully to the princess. "Good morning, your highness. Lady Tharja."

"You don't need to do that all formal-y, Uncle Q," Lucina laughed.

"Don't call me Unc— _ow._ " The myrmidon's protest was cut short by a small pointy elbow in his ribs from Lissa. "...My apologies, little princess."

"Did you sleep well?" Lissa laid her napkin out on her lap while Tharja helped Lucina into her chair. Lucina mirrored her aunt, plopping the white cloth over her legs, but Tharja picked it up and tucked it into her collar instead.

"I slept great!" Lucina fiddled with the napkin discontentedly. "I had nice dreams about Mommy and Daddy. What did you dream about, Aunt Lissa?"

"Cakes," Lissa sighed. "All the cakes I don't have time to bake with how busy I am since my brother's away." Lon'qu coughed to suppress a rare chuckle.

"But we have lots of cakes lying around," Lucina tipped her head at Lissa's plight. "Does Tharja not let you eat cake? Sometimes I don't get dessert if I haven't been doing all my chores, or—"

"Eat," Tharja tutted, peeling an apple.

Lucina scooped a spoonful of scrambles and hash with carrots onto her fork and stuck it in her mouth obligingly. "—or if I haven't eaten my meals yet," she finished, with her mouth full.

"The awesome thing about being a grown-up," Lissa smiled as she cut her sausages into delicately thin roundels, "is that _Aunty_ Tharja doesn't get to tell me when I can or can't eat cake. But I don't need to be _eating_ cakes, I want to be _making_ cakes." She sighed, resting her elbow on the table and cupping her chin in her hand.

"Teach me how to make cakes!" Lucina said around another mouthful of eggs.

"I would love to," Lissa smiled. "We'll find time somewhere. Maybe we'll steal off to the kitchens during reading time one of these days..."

Lucina polished off her breakfast, and the apple that Tharja had cut up for her. She ran to the kitchens with her plates to thank the servants, as her mother always told her to do, even though Tharja thought it was _unbecoming_ of a princess. But the kitchen maids always brightened at the visit from their princess, and sometimes even gave her sweets or an extra apple.

After breakfast, Lucina went to the library and studied with Tharja and Miriel, their best librarian. This occupied the bulk of her morning, and before what seemed to be a very short time, lunch had already come and gone, sandwiches stuffed down quickly in anticipation for having some free time after the meal.

Tharja walked with Lucina to the palace gardens, where she always met with Cordelia's daughter and Olivia's son. Severa and Inigo were not there yet, presumably still finishing their mealtime.

"Will you be okay waiting here for your friends?" Tharja looked down at the little girl. "Don't wander off, alright?"

Lucina glanced over at the guards by the gate. "Mhm! I'll be okay."

The Plegian nodded. "Alright. I have an errand to run in the market — I'll come see you this evening after dinner."

The princess smiled sweetly up at Tharja, and released her hand, plopping herself down in a tuft of thick grass. Tharja shook her head, unable to resist an uncharacteristic smile herself, and she turned to leave.

It wasn't long before a pair of red pigtails and a mop of silver hair appeared at the gate, and Severa and Inigo came stomping across the grass to her. "Lu!" Inigo stumbled slightly, falling behind Severa a bit. "Look what I brought!"

Inigo, Olivia's son, was carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. Severa stopped to wait up for him, folding her arms and scowling impatiently. "I asked if you could carry it on your own, and you _said_ you could."

"I _can!_ I'm doing just fine," Inigo protested as they arrived before Lucina. She looked up at them curiously.

"Is it something from Ferox?"

"Mhm!" Inigo nodded excitedly, dropping the bundle on the ground with a muffled clatter, and bent to undo the twine tying the ends shut.

"Khan Flavia had them made for us, apparently," Severa sat down next to Lucina. Inigo flipped the cloth wrappings open, revealing two tiny wooden swords and a lance.

"Wow!" Lucina's eyes widened, and she crawled over on her hands and knees. Severa scooped up a sword quickly.

"No way am I gonna play a pegasus knight. You _always_ make me be Caeda when we play Archanea games." She scowled, a tiny replication of Cordelia's trademark worried frown.

" _I'll_ be Caeda!" Inigo grabbed the lance, and smiled cheekily. "As long as Lu is Marth."

"But she _always_ gets to be Marth," Severa complained.

"Well, she's basically Marth, right? Cuz Marth is supposed to be her great-great-great-great-great-great-great—"

"We get it," Severa interrupted, and sighed. "Fine, I suppose. I'll be... _Navarre_."

"You're so dramatic," Lucina giggled, and popped to her feet, the other sword in her hand. Before Severa could make a quip in return, Lucina caught sight of a rustling in the bushes. Her imagination took flight. "Come on! We've gotta catch Nergal!"

The afternoon came and went, playtime flying by as if the two hours were two minutes. She spent the hours before dinner in the gardens with Lissa, while the older princess lectured about Ylisse. At dinnertime, Lissa brought along a storybook, reading it aloud to Lucina through mouthfuls of food, which earned her a particularly irked pout from Lon'qu.

After polishing off her dessert pudding and folding her napkin back into a little flower shape on the table, Lucina went and had the servants draw up a bath for her. In a cozily lucid haze from the warm bubbles, she curled herself up in her nightclothes and started to brush her hair before bed.

There was a knock at the door, and Tharja let herself in. "Still awake, I hope?"

"I was _just_ going to sleep soon, you came just in time!" Lucina smiled, tugging through a stubborn knot in her damp hair.

"Excellent," Tharja said, in the closest her tone ever came to sounding pleased. She left the door barely ajar behind her, and pulled a large brown parcel into view. "I've brought you something. But you can only have it after you listen very carefully to what I have to say, and promise to take it to heart, all right, dear?"

"Yes," Lucina plonked her hairbrush down and sat up on the edge of her bed, wiggling her legs in excitement at the present.

Tharja seated herself next to the princess, setting the parcel down on her free side. "You're growing up awfully quickly, you know that?"

"I'm _trying,_ " Lucina giggled.

"Don't try too hard," Tharja chuckled. "Once you're all grown up, believe me, you'll spend most of your time wishing you were little again. There are far fewer of the world's troubles knocking at your door." Her expression turned serious. "That brings me to what I want to tell you, and ask you to promise me."

Lucina tipped her head attentively.

"There may come a time when the peace we enjoy and take for granted flees from Ylisse, and a time when your mother and father will not be there to protect you. Someday, you will be the Exalt, and you will be the one all the people of Ylisse look to for support and leadership. No one has spoken much of this to you yet, because it has not come to much importance, but I'd like to steal the honor of being the first." Tharja paused, and picked up the parcel, pulling the strings on it off. She pulled out a small but serviceable, beautifully wood-carved and painted replica of Falchion, and placed it in Lucina's lap.

"If you want to be a blade princess, then you shall learn the ways of the sword soon enough. I had that made for you, so that you'd have something special to practice with, rather than the dingy old wooden swords that they'll give you to swing around. Maybe you're a bit young yet to start _real_ training, but the spirit of it is already there. Lucina... promise me this," Tharja placed a hand tenderly on the side of the princess's face, and pointed another at her heart. "You have a light, right here, that can never be snuffed out or dimmed, and you must always trust in it to show you the way when all other lights go out. Promise me that you'll always take care of it, and when the time comes, let it shine for the world."

Lucina nodded serenely. "I will, Aunty. But... you're scaring me a little, with all this big talk about the future. I don't have to worry about that _soon,_ do I?"

Tharja planted a chaste kiss on Lucina's forehead. "Not soon, dove. But this was something I wanted you to hear as soon as you were ready to understand it."

"I do understand," Lucina squeezed Tharja's hand. "Thanks, Aunty Tharja," she said politely, turning over the gift in her hands. She raised the sword so that the hole in the center of the crossguard was before her face, and peered through it.

Tharja looked at the Brand of the Exalt staring at her through the eye of Falchion, and smiled to herself.


End file.
